Shivering,
snowbound Santa
Sleigh stuck in the snow,
Seven, striking
reindeer straying,
A sleet-and-shuddering storm show.
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Sticky,
sweaty Santa, 
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Searing, sweltering, stifling sally,
Surviving
scorching sunlight,
Seeing stampeding shoppers’ spree.
Somber
sorrowful Santa,
Savings and stuff swiftly spent,
Schedule’s
shuffling slowly,
Sponsors subscriptions scant.
Click here to visit VoicesNet.com to read the poem called "SAD SANTA "
12:20 PM |
12:09 PM |
It's
December and mum would have started Christmas preparation,
She’d
brush the wooden walls off bugs – hall, room and kitchen,
Image : http://www.glitter-graphics.com/
Dad
would do the shopping, marketing and Yule-tree decoration,
While,
we, kids got in their way and caused much consternation.
Mum
would sew our frocks, shirts and pants matched inside out,
Dad
would cut out old Christmas cards and hang them about,
The star,
he shaped from silver and gold cigarette packets he got,
While we
messed up the house, danced, played and fought.
Mum
was a connoisseur of Indian cuisine and western dishes,
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Roasting
or frying, she would grind her very own spices,
The aroma of her
cooking would pervade the surrounding houses,
While we could
barely wait for the days to get nearer to Christmas.
Biscuits,
cakes and sweetmeat, we helped mum do the cooking,
Shaping dough
with a fork, we’d work till three in the morning,
Shell-shaped
biscuits we made, crispy, sugary and mouth-melting,
While mum did
the frying, we were allowed to do the tasting.
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On
Christmas Eve, mum had the chicken fried and turkey roasted,
Dad
had the altar cleaned, our clothes ironed and the crib perfected,
The
table-cloth was laid, the floor swept and the carpet dusted,
While
we had to sleep at noon, so that night we wouldn’t be
tired.
Getting ready for midnight mass was a joyous
adventure,
Dad would comb my tresses parting the hair in the
centre,
Mum in sari, dad with bow-tie and coat, an unforgettable
picture,
Off to church, by trishaw we’d go, so walking wouldn’t
be a bother.
After months of practice, dad was the conductor
of the choir,
Gloriously he sang for he had the voice of baritone
and tenor,
If one upstart lacked practice and sang tunelessly, it
irked dad’s ire,
To dad, hymns were praises to God sung with
homage and honour.
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Come Christmas morning, our house would be
full of people, far and near,
Dad's urgent whisper “Make sure,
there’s some left for our children, dear,”
Under mum’s
watchful eye food was enough for family and friends together,
I'll
never forget Christmas aeons ago that was filled with joy and
laughter.
Click here to visit VoicesNet.com to read the poem called "MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS PAST" by Jacinta Ramayah, Malaysia
7:18 PM |
On the night after Christmas, the house was a sight,
As though the clan had had dinner, with a cat-fight,
The curtains were all awry and hanging in shreds,
The stockings by the warm hearth were missing some threads,
Greasy pots and pans were stacked high under the sink
With gravy dripping over, the glasses with drinks,
The walls were splattered with custard, pudding and pies,
The table-cloth was stained with soup, curry and spice.
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Potato chips, coleslaw, roast turkey and chicken,
Nothing was left except the dry bones and tendon,
A sandal lay undone, kicked behind the front door,
The star from above the tree lay crushed on the floor,
Twinkle-lights were spluttering, the candles were out,
Television was on but no movements about,
Poor Infant Jesus had fallen from his manger,
The angels looked bare, their wings had toppled over.
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| Image : http://www.glitter-graphics.com/ |
Trimmings and tinsels were full of dust and debris,
All were asleep, only one person was astir,
Who would it be but mum, the soul of Xmas cheer,
She knew she had a few hours before Boxing morn,
To clean the place before the mob came rushing down,
She sighed at the clutter in the kitchen and hall,
A few hours earlier they had been having a ball.
Mum picked up the clothes that were strewn over the stairs,
The bathroom floor she discovered, was a wet mess,
In the bedroom the kids slept, mumbling and dreaming,
Her good man lay on his back, wheezing and snoring,
“Wake up Amy, Pamela, Helen and Reuben,”
“Please, Patrick and Glenn, come help me in the kitchen,”
Rubbing their eyes, the kids sat up bemused and lost,
Thought they had a second visit from Santa Claus.
 |
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Slowly they turned over and went right back to sleep,
Dreaming of more presents, angels, reindeer and sheep,
Mum trudged wearily back downstairs to scrub and clean,
While wishing Santa had left an elf with his grin,
She put the Babe back and glued on the angels’ wings,
Placed a new star on the tree, switched off everything,
Getting down on her knees, the splattered walls she washed,
Under tables and chairs, the dirty floor she mopped.
 |
| Image : http://disney-clipart.com/ |
She scrubbed the whole hall and kitchen till they sparkled,
And fluffed the cushions briskly, till the dust settled,
She took down the torn curtains and put up new ones,
Stockings she turned inside out so threads wouldn’t run,
Unwashed clothes, she dumped into the washing machine,
Trash bags were taken out and thrown into the bin,
She worked up some suds and soaped the plates and saucers,
Got rid of the stains that smeared the cups and glasses.
She scoured the pots last till they were gleaming bright,
She worked like poor Cinderella all through the night,
Took her some time before the house was spick and span,
Though her arms and knees were aching, she still felt grand,
With all in place she put back Xmas joy and worth,
Mums (she knew) who kept alive Jesus’ awesome birth,
Leaning by the window sill, she watched dawn draw near,
“What the heck,” she said, “Christmas comes but once a year.”
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| Image : http://www.glitter-graphics.com/ |
Nov 21 2007
Click here to visit VoicesNet.com to read the poem called "THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS" by Jacinta Ramayah, Malaysia
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